


Odds and Ends

by Geist



Category: Homestuck, Original Work, Sequential Art - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Aphrodisiacs, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Ball Sucking, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Breathplay, Collars, Crotch Rope, Double Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, F/F, F/M, Flogging, Furry, Hypersensitivity, Hypodermic Needles, Injections, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Petplay, Pheromones, Porn Watching, Pregnancy Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Rope Walking, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Snowballing, Solo, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, cum swapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geist/pseuds/Geist
Summary: A collection of short fics from geistygeist.tumblr.com, volume 2!





	1. Vomeronasal (Nepeta/Karkat, Troll Heat, Pheromones)

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are portrayed as 18+.

Troll noses were sensitive, and trolls were powerfully responsive to scents and airborne chemical messages, a legacy of their insectile evolution. They all smelled the new aroma that filled the halls and chambers of the asteroid habitat, but Karkat noticed it most of all. It made his skin prickle, his hands clammy; it filled him with the sense that he was missing something important. He started to get powerful erections, ones so hard that they hurt, shameful, obvious erections that had him sneaking away to his room to take care of them.

Karkat soon figured out the source. It was Nepeta, she was there when his arousal hit him the worst, frisking around him, cuddling up to him, dropping things as a pretext to bend over and wave her arse in his face. The sultry stink of a troll in heat swirled around her, and more than once he caught her staring at him with a predatory, possessive look in her eyes.

She jumped him when he returned to his room for yet another session of self pleasure. She jumped from the shadows while he had his pants around his ankles and his bulge in his hand, bowling him over: a low down dirty ambush that set him cursing and struggling. He righted himself, saw her and was instantly plunged into a mating frenzy. Those gleaming eyes, her full lips, wet with saliva, her pert breasts, her whole damn body, replete with muscle, sleek with superficial chubbiness, and between her thick thighs, her nook, dripping with translucent green juices, its labia plump, puffy and spread to reveal the glorious glistening flesh within. Dripping? Fuck, it practically steamed. Karkat jumped to his feet, tore at his clothes and charged at her.

Nepeta caught him by the arm, turned his momentum against him and hurled him to the tiles, then leapt at him. He rolled out of the way, onto his knees, while she landed lightly on all fours. He grabbed her haunches and pulled himself up close, thrusting madly. His cock stabbed at her pussy over and over, slipping over it but never hitting its mark. Nepeta kicked back and knocked his leg out from under him. While he struggled to get up, she wheeled round and slammed into him, knocking him on his back again. This time she managed to pin and straddle him. With a yowl of triumph, she drove herself onto his prick, feeling herself part around his head, then the thickness of his shaft forcing open her walls.

She rode him like a wild animal, howling, her nails raked at his chest while her hindquarters bobbed, rocked and wiggled, thrusts staccato and irregular, keeping his cock lodged deep inside her before she transitioned to longer, smoother thrusts that made her mewl and stretch. It was in the midst of one of these that Karkat seized his opportunity, reared up and pushed her over. She hit the floor and he covered her; his bulge pierced her nook with unerring accuracy, pushing straight to the core of her while she feebly growled and tried to regain her position.

They ended up on their sides, and that was how they stayed, pressed together, limbs tangled, hands and fingers on breasts and bottoms, nipples, wrapped in hair, rubbing at the parts of their genitals that their coital embrace didn’t already cover. Karkat crushed her clit, twisted and tugged at it, showing it none of the delicacy such a sensitive spot was due because he knew Nepeta could take it, knew that her bucking and squirming was her way of managing the overwhelming stimulation that balanced on the crackling interface between pleasure and pain. She gave back as good as she got and seized his balls, squeezing them so hard that he yelped, then she pinched his scrotum, separating his testicles with her thumb. She was massaging them when she felt them twitch, and knowing that he was about to come she slapped herself against him with furious abandon, driving his cock into her deeper than ever, pussy spasming in protest at the speed and friction and intolerable heat building in her. He moaned and twitched his hips with every last bit of energy he had, precum flowing like a river that mixed with her juices and splattered their thighs and groins, so thick and profluent that he would have barely noticed his orgasm were it not for the mind-fucking explosion of bliss that racked his body. It forced a scream from his lungs, one that was cut off as Nepeta pressed her lips to his and drew him into a burning kiss, tongues lashing against each other, mouths sloppy with drool so copious it dribbled down their chins.

Shaking, writhing against each other like wrigglers in a brood pit, Karkat and Nepeta dragged themselves through the treacle-thickness of their climax, and ended up staring the other in the eye as though hardly believing what they’d done. But neither unlinked their arms or sought to extricate themselves from the other’s grasp. They were the survivors of a dead planet, a dead species, torn from hive and hearth and passed through umpteen trials, but, they knew now, they were still trolls, still capable of revelling in their bodies, and they were glad.


	2. Chemical Enhancements (Vriska/John, Aphrodisiacs, BDSM)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vriska and John engage in a challenge of wills. John cheats. Content warnings for hypodermics/drug use/aphrodisiacs.

Vriska’s chains clinked and squeaked, they jangled together and rubbed against the ring embedded firmly and immovably in the ceiling. Linked to heavy-duty leather cuffs, no amount of blue-blooded strength would let her break free or pull them down, no struggle she could put up would help her lower her arms below her head. The chains were almost, but not quite long enough for her to completely rest her feet on the floorboards, and so she had to tiptoe slightly to avoid putting any strain on her wrists. She’d been perfectly comfortable until a few minutes ago, able to stand with no problems, but then her ankles had been pushed apart and shackled into a short steel spreader bar, robbing her of the height she needed to stay that way.

Anyone else tied like that – naked, to boot – might have felt more than a little helpless. Not Vriska. She knew that she only had to endure thirty minutes of bondage before she was free and easy and crushing the instigator of this little charade under her boot.

“Speak of the devil,” she said, smirking as he came in through the door.

“I didn’t,” he said. “Did you?”

She ignored him and carried on. “Your life is going to be a living hell once you’ve had your fun, Johnny boy.”

“So now you’re the devil? I mean, if I’m in hell…”

“Noooooooo, shut up!”

“…doesn’t really make sense if I’m the devil…”

“It’s just a dumb human saying!”

“…but I guess it must be pretty bad for him too.”

“Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup!”

“I did.” John grinned at her, and she glared back. He deflected her rage by stroking her cheek and saying “You’re pretty when you’re tied up.”

She would have preened, but contented herself with pouting as he ran his hand down her skinny frame, pausing to squeeze one of her pert breasts, eliciting a gasp from her as his thumb flicked over her nipple. Her scowl returned.

“Remember our deal,” she said, a warning tone in her voice.

“Yep. Half an hour with you in chains, I can do anything I want to you, and if you beg for any reason you have to be my slave for a month.”

“And if you can’t get me to beg, you’re mine. I think the first thing I’ll do when I’m out of these is break out the biiiiiiiig strap-on.”

“Only if you win.” John extracted his phone from his pocket, brought up the timer and set it to thirty minutes. “Three, two, one, go!” He tapped the screen and the timer started with a beep. Vriska tried to keep him in sight as he walked behind her and set the phone down somewhere. A moment later, she felt his breath on her neck and his hand on her back.

“Do your worst, Jo-YEOWWWWWWWWCH! What the hell was that?”

John withdrew the hypodermic he’d jabbed into her thigh, wiped away the sapphire droplet of blood that oozed from the injection site and put the needle and tissue safely out of the way.

“That was a little something me and Rose’s mom cooked up.” Vriska felt John pressing up to her, rubbing her shoulders. “You should start feeling it right about…now.”

A chill rippled through Vriska, originating in the exact point where he’d stuck her. It was followed by a wave of something she couldn’t really place, but everything feeling sharper and more immediate. The air felt cooler on her skin, and John’s hands had never been quite so warm or good.

“What did you do to me?” she asked, groaning, his massage making her tremble.

“That shot makes your touch receptors really sensitive. Anything that normally feels good feels loads better. Your whole body’s an erogenous zone now. So I can do this…”

John circled around Vriska and stroked her cheek again. This time it felt intimate, erotic, as though he was touching her somewhere private. He tipped her head towards him, leaned in and kissed her. His lips burned against hers, and the thrill that ran through her when he stuck out his tongue to lick them knocked her for a loop. Reeling, she opened up and he slithered in between her pointed teeth. No tender sharing of their bodies, this: it was an invasion, John proving his dominion. And it was wonderful, even as John curled his tongue around hers and forced it down, probing the inner sides of her cheeks and lips, a sensation built in her, one that was only comparable to…comparable to…

She couldn’t articulate it in her mind, no sooner than she had a grasp on the concept than a tremor rocked her, sweet release from an unnoticed tension. She shook her muzzy head, felt wetness on her lips and chin, and realised she’d been drooling. Her tongue and the roof of her mouth were numb.  
“Whaaaaaaaat?” she groaned. “Did I just-?”

“Yep. You came from a kiss. Everything that was sensitive before is even more sensitive now.” And as if to prove his point, he palmed her tits, grinding her nipples against his skin, then he bent to suck one while he rolled the other between his fingers. Vriska progressed through gasps and moans to frantic, disbelieving screams, her squeaks got increasingly more shrill as she ran out of air, her chest constricting itself, tightness building in her breast as fiery nervous prickles stabbed her boobs over and over. She climaxed with a wheeze, rocking against her chains as twin orgasms exploded simultaneously in her nipples, orbs of heat that radiated out from them and filled her whole self.

“You see?” John said after Vriska sucked some air back into her lungs. “Sensitive everywhere. Which means…”

He put his hand between her legs and trailed a finger up her inner thigh, stopping millimetres away from her privates. His fingertip gathered up blue-tinted moisture, and he held it up to her mouth for her to lick clean.

“Wow, I can’t believe you’re this wet already. Want me to touch you?”

“Nice try,” she said, through gritted teeth, “but I ain’t giving in that easily, drugs or not.”

“I figured you wouldn’t.” John grabbed her crotch, and she remembered very little after that.

She knew he used his fingers first, fast and rough, shoving them deep into an opening that was well prepared for a bit of roughness. She clenched down reflexively, and her nook practically sucked on his curled digits as they thundered back and forth inside her. Three thrusts made her come, another three, again, like clockwork, the aftershocks of the previous climaxes reinforcing the ones that followed.

John ripped his fingers from her and attacked her clit, and found that it was nothing less than an instant orgasm button. The lightest touch, the faintest of rubs sent her into squealing paroxysms, and he pressed down on it relentlessly, triggering endless waves of pleasure accompanied by torrents of juice spurting from her pussy. John reckoned he must have drained nearly a pint out of her before she slowed to a trickle, a blue puddle pooling around her feet.

At some point he fucked her, or at least thought he did. Something that wasn’t his fingers was shaping her pleasure, something long and thick, something that filled her with sticky glutinous fluid at least a couple of times she could count. It was hard to tell with her mind wrecked and her eyes rolled up in her head, staring into a haze of lust so thick not even her vision-eightfold could penetrate it. Her world was shapes and sensations, vague inklings of hand and cock and lips and tongue buried deep beneath all-pervading bliss.

And just as quickly as it had started, it was gone. Vriska blinked and found herself able to think again. She realised her face was streaked with tears and drool, her tongue was lolling from her mouth and she was covered in sweat. Her quim leaked cum, thick droplets of pearly white mingled with her blue that rolled down her thigh. She was a mess, but soon she’d be in a deep, hot bath, with John half drowning as he licked her clean beneath the water.

“I did it,” she said, her voice croaky, her throat dry. “I won. I didn’t beg.”

John’s phone beeped. “Time’s up,” she said. “Ready to be my slave?”

“You know I’d love to,” he said, picking up his phone and waving it front of her. “But are you sure you didn’t beg?”

“Never.”

“You did.”

“Bullshit.”

John thumbed his phone and brought up the voice recorder. He pressed play, and Vriska heard her own sobbing, gasping voice.

“Yes, yes, pleeeeeeeease give it to me, please!”

“That sounds like begging,” said John’s recording. “Sure you want it? You want me to put my dick in your nook?”

“Yes, yes, yes I want it, I want it nowwwwwwww!” Her tinny, digitised screams echoed from the phone’s speakers. John cut them off with a swipe. He gave her the broadest, shit-eatingest grin she’d ever seen on him, and she slumped.

“You win,” she mumbled.

“Sorry?”

“You win, sir,” she repeated, louder this time.

“Good slave.”


	3. Solo Performance (Mom Lalonde, toys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Mom! She's jillin' it! It's very short!

She frigs noisily, Ms. Lalonde: size queen that she is, she rides gargantuan, wobbling toys, or presses a roaring vibrator to her clitoris, howling as she jacks up the intensity ‘til it’s almost painful. She fucks noisily, Ms. Lalonde: she goes to bars, plays the cougar, finds a young stud, brings him home, revels in his rough hands on her breasts, hard cock in her pussy. She comes noisily, Ms. Lalonde: on plastic or prick, heart thumping, blood pumping, breath heaving, she lets the pleasure maelstrom in her mind, screams it to the ceiling and, insatiable, begins it all again.


	4. Curious Skwirrel (Art/Scarlet, Sequentia Art, Furry/Human)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet's fast asleep on the sofa, Art's horny. Cue the surreptitious porn watching. Cue Scarlet waking up.

Art shifted listlessly in front of the TV, flicking through channels full of trash, phosphor burning late-night talk programmes and reality shows into his retinas. He really should have gone to bed earlier, he thought. Kat had, Pip had and Scarlet…Scarlet was still crashed out exactly where she had been a few hours earlier, curled up at the end of the sofa snoozing off the aftermath of a sugar crash. Introducing pixie sticks to the squirrels had, in his opinion, been unwise. He smiled at her sleeping form. The way she curled her fluffy tail around herself was just too adorable.  
The mammoth amount of coffee he’d drunk earlier in the day certainly contributed to his sleeplessness, but there were also certain personal urges that he hadn’t taken care of in a while. Sorting them out might make it a bit easier to get to bed. He hesitated. But Scarlet was still dead to the world, the house was quiet and the Freeview receiver had a porn channel. Fuck it. He was a grown man in his own house watching his own telly, and he was entitled to a bit of filth now and then.

He flipped over to channel sixty-nine and tweaked the volume down to a whisper. Pip had done something unholy to the receiver that bypassed the payment system, and soon Art was watching something called Shag House IX without it gouging a thousand pounds a second out of his credit card.

“Hi,” said the TV in a sultry female voice, which belonged to a heavily made up blonde woman with unfeasibly huge tits. “I’m Busty McBigboobs.”

“And I’m Massive Cockson,” said a slab of walking muscle with a face. “I’m here to fix the plumbing or something.”

“Our names are not subtle.”

“No they are not. I’m going to put my genitals in your genitals now, if that’s okay.”

“Fair enough.”

The porn stars conjoined, and Art watched their passionless passion while he unzipped his jeans and stroked his cock into erection. Even if the sex was boring, simple visual stimulation did the trick, and after a minute or so he was breathing heavily and beginning to enjoy himself. He’d only really needed the porn to get started: his thoughts wandered - as they inevitably did - to Kat. The sweat built up on his fingers and precum leaked from the tip of his prick, and his movements produced a wet sound along with a surge of much needed pleasure.

Something was off, though. He’d pump his fist down his shaft, then a moment later another slishing noise would echo through the room. Slowly, fearing the worst, he turned his head towards the end of the sofa.

There was Scarlet, completely awake now, staring intently at his crotch with bright, inquisitive eyes, her tail uncurled and her hand between her legs.

“Scarlet!” Art practically yelped.

She looked up, but kept rubbing away at herself. “Hiya Arty!”

“Scarlet, you can’t do that.”

“Why not? I saw the lady an’ the man matin’, an’ I started to feel kinda sorta hot, so I put my hand down there an’ it felt rilly good, then I wuz watchin’ you an’ it felt rilly RILLY good!”

“Yeah, but you can’t do it while I’m here.”

She gave him, for her, an unusually meaningful look.

“Okay, I’m doing it, but I thought you were asleep.”

“Awww, it’s a-kay. I don’t mind if you have a wank while I’m here.”

Art spluttered. “Yes but…that’s not the…I mean…”

“Ooh! I gotta idea! If it’s not okay to do it ourselfs, why don’ we do it fer each other?”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“A-yup.”

Art was conflicted. On the one hand, it was wrong, completely, utterly, totally. Scarlet was a friend, nothing more.

And on the other, she looked incredibly sexy in that overlarge, off the shoulder shirt that was her sole item of clothing.

“Okay,” he said.

“Yaaaaaaay!” Scarlet flung herself at him, enveloping him in the tightest of hugs, and he felt her breasts squash up against him.

“But don’t tell anyone, got it?”

“Gottit!”

Art climbed off the sofa and Scarlet leaned back, splaying herself across the cushions. He reached out to touch her, willing his hand not to shake, and imagined he could feel the air turning solid as he came closer. He broke through and brushed the russet fur to the side of her stomach, marvelling at how soft and silky it was. The off-white fur that started around her muzzle, cascaded down her neck and torso and terminated around her thighs was even softer, and it was this that he traced his fingers down, lower and lower until it turned distinctly damp. Her pussy lips protruded through it, shiny pink and puffy with arousal. Between them her hole was already soaked and slippery, drooling with juice. Art was quite astounded at how quickly she’d gotten turned on: her loins were as excitable as the rest of her. She wriggled back and forth, faster with every millimetre closer he got to her slit, until she was practically vibrating. Her eyes met his, and he could see the lust in them.

Keeping Scarlet waiting seemed tantamount to cruelty, so Art licked his fingers for a little extra lubrication - not that she needed it - and slipped them in, index and middle pressed close together, curved up, ready to press deep into her most sensitive of sensitive places. Her eyes closed, unusually slowly for her, and she heaved a heavy sigh. Art thought for a moment that she’d lost herself to the pleasure, but then her hand shot out and wrapped itself around his cock. He almost yelped, muffling it into a gulping gasp. Scarlet started to rub, and he sighed just as she had. Those slim, dextrous fingers, covered in that soft brown fuzz…sheer magic.

“Mmm, Scarlet, that feels great.” She grinned and nodded, and he returned the favour with a couple of exploratory thrusts, feeling her slick walls clutch at his digits, and judging he was in the right place, pushed up into yielding flesh, grinding the pads of his fingertips into it. Scarlet arched up, her hips trembled, and she squealed so loudly that Art had to shush her, fearful that she’d wake the rest of the house. She settled into a pattern of squeaky moans instead, and he’d have happily fingerfucked her night in and night out just to hear something so cute. She was more than happy to return the favour, though, pumping his cock harder and faster, running her thumb around the ridge of his glans until he was groaning and shuddering.

“Duzzit feel good fer guys when you do that?” Scarlet asked, transfixed by his cock and the way it throbbed and twitched under her touch.

“Rilly good,” Art replied, a teasing tone in his voice. “Does it feel good for girls when you do this?” He stroked her folds with his thumb, flicking it between them, rising up her mound until he hovered over her clit, Scarlet quaking in anticipation. He pressed down, ever so gently, ever so lightly, and she slapped her free hand over her mouth. Her muffled screams told him everything he needed to know, and so he kept up his two-pronged attack, rocking his hand between the sweet spot outside and the sweet spot inside.

It was hard to keep his mind on the job, not when everything he did made her squeeze tighter and rub harder. The way she writhed against the sofa was particularly distracting: the way her shirt rode up, revealing her fuzzy stomach and the bottoms of her breasts, which bounced and swayed beneath their inadequate constraints. Art could feel his climax bubbling up inside him, and given the way Scarlet had her hand balled up and stuffed in her mouth he guessed she was close too. He chuckled at her inflated cheeks, and she half-giggled, half squealed back at him.

The faster Art moved his fingers, the more frantic Scarlet got, the more she squirmed with frantic, pent up energy, fighting the tension in her body. Her tail swished to and fro; she was practically buzzing with need, so much so that Art was surprised she didn’t flop right off the sofa. He wasn’t much more controlled, though. His hips bucked against his will, trying to fuck her hand even as she swept it along the length of his cock, so fast it was almost a blur. There was nothing to do but hold on and keep pushing her onward.

Scarlet reached the peak of her pleasure and let go with a long, drawn out “Mmmmmmmmmm!” She threw her legs into the air, toes curled, the taut muscles of her core contracting as she jerked against the back of the sofa. Her inner walls clenched down on his fingers, and a jet of her juices sprayed out around them, spattering across Art’s shirt. A moment later, his own orgasm rushed through him: dizzying, exhilarating, so powerful it made his knees tremble and his legs bow. He leaned forward, groaning as thick streams of cum spurted from his cock and left pearly splashes across Scarlet’s stomach, surge after surge until all that was left was a thin trickle that dribbled out over her hand.

Gasping, Art collapsed onto the sofa. Scarlet cuddled up to him, and in a blissful haze he saw her open her mouth to say something no doubt incredibly romantic.

"You got your goo on me!”

“Uh?” he said, then chortled. “Well, you got yours on me!”

“Yaaaay! Goo buddies!”

Art could feel himself nodding off. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep here and be discovered by Pip or Kat. He shook himself back into alertness, clicked off the utterly disregarded TV and stood up, zipping his jeans back up as he did.

“Listen…”

With rare perspicacity, she put a finger to her mouth. “I know,” she said. “Our seecret. I yam rilly good at keeping seecrets!”

“Thanks, Scarlet.”

She grinned at him, and he smiled back, turned and took himself off to bed, his sleeplessness totally a thing of the past.


	5. Bad Mutt! (Jade/John, petplay, animal characteristics, heat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade's a naughty dog.

When Jade went into heat, she turned into a real bitch. No clothes, save for the collar that John demanded she wear when they went out. Showers turned into her getting sluiced down with the hose out in the back yard, leashed to a post to stop her from running away, and no matter how much John towelled her down she always managed to retain enough water to soak him and the carpets when she shook it off inside. She humped everything: cuddly toys, pillows, table legs, real legs. It was like raising a naughty puppy.

John caught her one day, engaged in the aforementioned humping, the arm of the sofa this time, one knee bent and resting on the cushions, the other straight with her foot on the floor. John cleared his throat. She froze, and turned to look at him with a foolish grin on her face. His expression was grim, and he was packing heat.

“Now I know what you’re thinking, pup,” he drawled. “You’re thinking ‘did he remember to refill the water lately?’ Now to tell you the truth I forgot myself what with all the humping you’ve been doing. But being that this is a 99 cent store SpritzMaster, the most powerful spray bottle in the world, and will soak you clean through, you’ve gotta ask yourself a question. 'Do I feel lucky?’ Well? Do ya, pup?”

Jade jerked her hips forward, shuddering as the fibres of the upholstery dragged themselves across her swollen, sensitive pussy lips. John pulled the trigger. She yelped, leapt off the sofa and went hurtling away, John in hot pursuit. They thundered up the stairs, through the door to their bedroom and ended up in the corner, her backed into it, him advancing on her.

“You wouldn’t pull that trigger, would you? ” Jade said, turning the full force of her cuteness on him. Puppy dog eyes were extremely effective when you had big puppy dog ears to fold winsomely across your head, and a fluffy puppy dog tail to tuck between your legs.

John held firm. “Convince me why I shouldn’t, friendo.”

She fondled her breasts, engorged from her heat, running her fingers over her dark, stiff nipples. She moistened her lips, lasciviously rolling her tongue across them, and in a husky (or possibly malamute) voice said “We could go walkies.”

He dropped the spray bottle. “I’ll get your leash.”

Walkies meant sex, and the leash had become an integral part of it. Jade humped his leg while he stripped down and clipped it to her collar. He did his best to ignore her, dragged her to the bed and pushed her down onto all fours, tugging on the leash to make her snap her head up, ears raised and alert, tongue out and panting. Her tail waved like a furry flag until John grabbed it, yanked it up, exposing her pussy, puffy and glistening, and pushed the head of his cock up against it, feeling a trickle of her juices leak out and flow down his shaft.

John thrust forward, encountering only the barest hint of resistance as he squeezed his way in, then the ridge of his glans was past her opening and he was gliding straight to the deepest part of her, slipping past softly undulating walls that seemed to part at his approach. That was the advantage of her heat: it left her sopping wet, full of energy and constantly up for a shag. John was always ready to fulfil her needs, even if it did leave him drained, wrung out and utterly exhausted by the end of each of her breeding seasons.

They rutted, was the best way to describe it, or mated, perhaps. Made love, had sex, even fucked were all too human, too lacking in the flavour their wild coupling - scratch coupling, too - possessed. John was inevitably drawn into Jade’s bestial enthusiasm, no matter how sweet and tender he intended to be, and he certainly hadn’t meant to be tender this time. He crouched over her, grunting like an ape with every slap his thighs made against hers, pumping his shining length of engorged, solid flesh between her greasy lower lips. She made soft howls and butted her butt back up against him, meeting halfway, sharing the effort of setting up the scorchingly fast penetration that made her drool, the inoutinout that felt like it could turn her inside-out. John’s hands were talons on her breasts, tearing, mauling, pinching, his nails scoring red across her skin and his touches white across her nerves. She screamed, begged for more, her howls amplifying to the point where John had to grab her leash and haul on it lest she disturb the neighbours. A strangled yelp, then she was quiet again, at least for the moment.

“John, John, Jooooohn.” Jade could feel every knotted muscle in her quim, every tensed sinew in her core, the great ball of compressed pleasure sitting in her stomach. “Ar…ar….arf!…are you gonna come?”

“Not yet, not until you - nnf!” He was cut off as Jade’s walls pulsed around his cock. She keened, collapsed to her elbows, shivering in pure delight, but still desperate to get her request across.

“Come in me!” she shouted through her haze.

“You might get pregnant!”

Jade had a vision of herself as a sort of fertility idol, sat cross-legged, distended stomach resting in her lap, breasts huge and heavy with milk, their rich cream trickling in thick white rivulets over the swell of her bosom and belly. An utterly unexpected second climax ripped through her, and she screamed:

“Do it, do iiiiit!”

“Lemme get this straight,” John said, gasping. He fucked as fast as ever, though the strain of holding back was visible on his face. “You want me to come in you?”

“Yeah!”

“Want me to fill you up with my man-batter?”

Between snorting giggles, Jade managed to say “Yes!”

“Then let’s put some puppies in you, bitch!” He punctuated each word with a vicious thrust, so hard and fast that Jade feared he would actually bust open her cervix and push straight through to her womb, but he came before that happened, moaning, his balls contracting over and over, each squeeze squirting debilitating ecstasy through his body along with his cum into her pussy. Jade felt each gout coat her walls and came for a third time, a gentle ripple of an orgasm just to top off the session.

They parted, cleaned up as best they could and lay together, staring up at the ceiling, John’s hand on his forehead and Jade’s on her stomach. She imagined she could feel John’s slimy little gametes wriggling their way up her passage, into her womb, up to her clustered egg cells. Would she have a litter if she got pregnant? she wondered, and if she did, how much dog would be in them. She imagined babies with cute pointy ears just like hers, and tails that wagged when she sang lullabies. She traced a finger around her womb, thinking up names for each hypothetical whelp. John’s hand joined hers on her belly, and turning to him, she smiled. He grinned back, and kissed her.


	6. Tightrope (Original unnamed character, 2nd Person, Crotch rope/Rope walking, BDSM)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a vagina. It's up against a silky rope.

The rope is slightly higher than waist height, oiled and stretched, you presume, across the length of the room. You can’t see it: your eyes stare only into the thick, black fabric of a blindfold. You couldn’t even hear it, were there anything to hear: your ears are plugged and covered. You know how high the rope is because you straddle it, your weight resting upon it, forcing it up between the folds of your pussy to caress the delicate pink flesh within. You’d tiptoe, to relieve yourself of the maddening pressure it constantly exerts, but you’re already on your toes, forced en pointe by much higher heels than you’re used to. You’d push it down with your hands, but your arms are folded behind your back, held there by tight leather binders.

The oil tingles, burns a bit, even, mingling with your own natural wetness. Essence of mint, or ginger, you think, but despite the added torment it brings, you’re glad of it. You couldn’t bear the thought of the rope’s fibres grinding against you dry, no matter how silky they are, no matter how smooth and well maintained.

You sense your lover’s presence before he touches you: hands on your hips, fingers kneading the soft flesh of your arse. You lean back, presenting your neck, and he kisses it, the lightest brush of lips, the briefest touch of tongue. Then, he’s away again, and you ache for him. A moment later, his crop smacks against your thigh. You stiffen, nearly jumping, and take your first teetering steps forward.

Your pussy glides along the line, and you gasp, the friction already affecting you, the heat building, your juices thickly flowing. Another step, a shudder, a stumble, a crack of the crop. You yelp, hearing it through your skull rather than your ears, and drag yourself further along.

You didn’t realise your lover had knotted the rope. You fetch up against a tight whorl of fibres, your clitoris finding it before the rest of you. A jolt runs through you, sharp, sudden, unexpected. You stagger back, and the crop strikes you twice, forcing you forwards again. You heave yourself over the knot, shuddering, desperately trying to ignore the pleasure-pain shooting from your jewel as it’s squeezed between your body and the rope. The knot plops into the vestibule of your vagina and you sigh at the sweet relief from the pressure on your clit.

From there it’s just a matter of wriggling off the knot and worming your way down the rest of the rope. Your lover encourages you with the crop when you slow or falter, and you gather what you suspect is a nice collection of welts across your thighs and bottom. There are other knots too, tied in different ways and different sizes, some huge, fist-sized lumps that strain you to breaking point to cross, others mere tickling beads. None of them are evenly spaced: one might come two small steps after another, nothing but the comparative calm of smooth, flat rope, another might come straight after the one before it. The irregularity is maddening, but you keep moving. There is no other choice.

You cross the final knot, a monstrous, mountainous beast of a thing, cruelly and crudely lashed together so that you have to rise on aching toes, trembling calves, agonised thighs, put every ounce of muscle and resolve into dragging your poor, bruised flesh over this last obstacle. And you do. With tears soaking into your blindfold, with sweat dripping from your forehead, down your back, with your pussy buzzing and your head swimming you cross it and the last few inches of rope. And you bump unceremoniously into the wall.

Your lover’s arms enclose you, cosseting, cradling; he lifts you off the rope and you can already see him carrying you to the bed, laying you down, comforting your body and refreshing your spirit as only he knows how. But even as you imagine yourself massaged, fed and watered, he turns you around, away from him, and places you back on the rope.

You fear you may cry. Worse, you fear you may come.


	7. Extracurricular (Dad Egbert/Mom Lalonde, teachers, school AU, under the desk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mom's giving her colleague some under-the-table service when her daughter walks into the classroom. Can Dad avoid blowing their cover while Mom blows him?

“Mr. Egbert?”

He looked up and over to the open classroom door, through which sauntered a pretty blonde girl, one with black, rule-flouting makeup on her lips and a purple satche swinging at her side..

“Rose,” he said. “Something I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually. Have you seen my mother? She said she’d give me a lift home after she got done with an after-hours oral exam. ”

Mr. Egbert glanced down at his desk, which thankfully faced the door. Lalonde Senior in fact lurked beneath it, and the yellow mass of her hair hadn’t stopped bobbing, hadn’t missed a beat since Rose walked in. Now she peered up at him with mischievous purple eyes and, licking her lips, which were already shiny with saliva, drew back from his cock and smiled. With great deliberateness she resumed her blowjob, heedless of the effect it had on…  
“Mr. Egbert? Have you seen her?”

He shook his head, half as a negative, half to clear his mind. “Mmmnope, don’t think I have. You’ve tried the library?”

“Yes,” she said sourly. “Typical. Bet she’s hiding in a supply closet somewhere sucking from her flask.”

“Now Rooooh…ahem, Rose. You should show her some respect. She is your mother, and my fellow teacher.”

“I suppose.” She sighed, and dropped her bag. “Do you mind if I stay here until she shows up?”

What to do, what to do? He was a teacher, ostensibly a busy, hardworking teacher who didn’t need the distraction of a student out of teaching hours. On the other hand, he was never the type to turn one of his pupils away, and to do so now might invite suspicion. Ms. Lalonde licked the head of his cock, lapping up and down, coaxing it into even greater hardness. With the utmost delicacy and delectation, she drove the tip of her dextrous, practised tongue into his slit, slurping up the droplets of precum that leaked from within. He gripped the edges of his chair and shivered.

“Quit that,” he whispered.

“Mr. Egbert?”

“Sure, sure, take a seat.”

Rose swung her bag off her shoulder, sat down, pulled out her homework and immersed herself in the mysteries of geometry, just as her mother immersed Mr. Egbert’s cock in her mouth. He clung to his desk like a storm-wrecked sailor to a piece of driftwood. Wiith rapture on his face, he stared vacantly at the posters on the classroom’s back wall as Mrs. Lalonde’s velvety cheeks sucked and hollowed around his shaft. Her tongue coiled and wriggled, slick, smooth, serpentine.

A spasm passed through Mr. Egbert. He twitched, his arm went flailing and knocked a - fortunately empty - paper cup to the floor. Rose looked up.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

“Fine, fiiiinnng…” Rose looked as though she was going to get up and grab the cup for him. He almost toppled his chair in lunging to get it himself. Rose settled back down and scrutinised him, not sure whether she was really looking at the cool, collected teacher she knew, the one who smoked a pipe and could even wear a fedora without looking like a tool. Here he was, shaking, sweating, obviously preoccupied with something. It was none of her business, she decided, and returned to her work, though she kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

Ms. Lalonde didn’t seem to give a damn that her daughter was in the room, nor did she make any attempt to be discrete. She tossed her head like a wild mare, driving Mr. Egbert’s prick deep into her mouth until he was tickling her tonsils. Her sucks and licks turned sloppy, and to Mr. Egbert’s mind, far too loud; she drooled rivulets of down his length each time she she pulled back, and slurped it back up on the return.

She engaged just enough of her teeth to to keep things interesting, and he jumped back each time she scraped her incisors along his shaft or nibbled at his glans. He tried feverishly to keep up his pretense of normality, scribbling away at the papers on his desk. It was hard, though, particularly when Ms. Lalonde took a deep breath and swallowed him completely, forcing her lips down to the very base of his cock, sealing and puckering them to mark her achievement in lipstick. She held him there for a moment, him frozen, transfixed, feeling his dick pulsing within the tight, twitching confines of her throat. He forced his eyes to unglaze, set his jaw firm and focussed on marking, to little avail. Some students got A’s they didn’t deserve, other poor saps got F’s. Ms. Lalonde was just too good.

She drove him past her tonsils with such speed and vigour that he was sure she’d choke, but not one cough, not one gag escaped escaped those perfect lips of hers. She glutched him down with the barest difficulty, smooth, deep reciprocations that sent molten pleasure coursing up into his body and brain, strumming every muscle, sparking every synapse, pooling, accumulating, condensi…

“…nnnnnng.” He groaned through lips pressed tight together, doubled over his desk, quivering, his pencil creaking in his clenched fist. He was extremely grateful that the studious Rose didn’t look up from her work, because then she’d surely see his florid, lecherous face and know that he was shooting burst after voluminous burst of thick cum straight down her mother’s throat, cum that she was swallowing with relish.

It felt as though he’d keep coming forever. Each squirt seemed to ooze from his prick in glutinous slow motion. All climaxes had their climax, though, and his petered out with one final trickle of of semen rolling out onto Ms. Lalonde’s tongue. It left him a mess, but a mess that was able to pull himself together and look normal as Rose’s inquisitive eyes swept over him.

Mr. Egbert sat with his softening cock in Ms. Lalonde’s mouth. She gently cleaned it of cum. The minutes ticked away, and presently Rose scoffed, piled her work into her bag and stood.

“I’m catching a bus,” she said. “If my mother shows up, tell her thanks for nothing.” With that, she stalked out and shut the door behind her.”

They waited until it was certain Rose was gone, then Mr. Egbert rolled back his chair and let Ms. Lalonde extricate herself from under the desk. He stood and pulled his pants back up.

“I’m going to pay for that later,” she said. She raised a finger to her lips and wiped off one last stray blob of cum, studied it for a moment, then licked it up. “Worth it, though.”

“You certainly know what a man likes, ma’am.”

She smiled. “And you certainly know what a lady likes, Mr. Egbert.”

“And what would those be? Because I can’t say I’ve ever found out myself.”

“Well in my case, I like a nice hat…” She plucked his from his desk, plopped it on his head and then grabbed his crotch, “…and a nice cock.”

“Good to know,” he said, “but I’ll bet there’s another thing.”

“Mmm?”

“Next time I’ll be the one under the desk, and you’ll be the one squirming around in your chair trying not to look the fool.”

“Ahh. Now that’s what I really like. A man who knows how to repay a favour.” She kissed him and gave his balls a lingering squeeze, then turned and walked out the door. “See you around, Mr. Egbert.”

Mr. Egbert watched her leave, sat down, took his pipe from a drawer. He tamped down the tobacco, sparked it up and, the stem between his teeth, took a puff and blew out a cloud of smoke, watched it twist and whirl in the air. “See you around, Ms. Lalonde.”


	8. Birthday Surprise (John/Jade/Dave, double blowjobs, cum swapping)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave gets woken up to a very nice double surprise.

It was Rose that had persuaded them. She’d taken John and Jade aside on the eve of Dave’s birthday, and suggested to them a very special, very naughty birthday present. They’d grinned, giggled and nudged one another as she described it, and went to bed thinking about how they were going to carry it out.

And so the next morning, Dave woke from pleasant dreams to an even more pleasant reality. Warmth and wetness suffused his cock: tongue and lips licked and suckled at it. Regular morning wood had nothing on how hard he was. Through sleep-blurred eyes he saw a hump under his covers.  
“Jade?” he murmured. One half of the hump detached itself and scurried up the bed. The edge of the blanket raised as Jade’s face peeked out.

“Hey Dave! Happy birthday!”

“Hey. This is my gift?”

“Yep!”

“Pretty good.” The warm wetness continued, spiced with the slurp of a tongue tip around the head of his prick. “Can’t help but notice my dick’s still getting sucked.”

“Hmm Mmmf!” came a muffled voice, then “Sorry. I meant ‘hi Dave’! Haaaaaappppppyyyyyyy Birthday to yooooooooouuuuu!” John popped out next to Jade, glasses askew and a big smile on his face. “Surprised?”

“I think it’s fair to say that I didn’t expect to wake up to a bi-sexual semi-incestuous ecto-twin suckjob when I toddled off to dreamland last night.”

“Yeah, that’d be a pretty weird thing to expect,” John said. “Right Jade?”

“Really weird.”

“That said…” Dave threw off the blanket, put his hands on their heads and pushed them down again. “…get back to it.”

John and Jade quite willingly returned to Dave’s privates. His cock stood proud and remarkably pretty: a tall, sculpted pillar carved in flesh that was as pale as the rest of him, save for the rubicund tip of his glans peeking out from his foreskin. They gazed at it like a rare and valuable piece of art, not taking their eyes off it for a second.

“So nice,” Jade said, sighing.

“Yeah,” John agreed. He curled his fingers around its shaft, and it twitched at his touch. With a couple of slow, lazy strokes, he drew out a glittering pearl of precum, which sat wobbling atop Dave’s slit until Jade bent down and licked it up. Another pump, another drop, another lick, then the same again. Jade murmured her appreciation of the salty slickness, John squeezed tight to feel Dave’s heat against his hand. They kept on tormenting him until he had no choice but to let out a groan.

“Hnnn - hey, Egbert,” Dave said, “thought you weren’t in to guys?”

John smiled again. “I’m in to some guys. Especially if it’s their birthday.” He let go of Dave’s cock, prompting another moan. John had been holding on harder than Dave had realised, and the sudden rush of fresh blood was exhilarating.

Jade took over, slurping up his length, round his cockhead, then back down again, quickly enough to keep Dave excited, slowly enough to keep him on edge. She painted his prick in saliva and pre, which now flowed steadily from his tip, more fluid than the sticky blobs she’d swallowed before. Each lap around it made it glisten like polished marble, turning it sleek, shiny and eminently suckable.

John couldn’t resist. He hunkered down next to Jade, flipping her hair over her shoulder and out of the way. She moved to focus on one side of their prize, while John took the other. Dave watched them lick from bottom to top, the deep pink of their tongues curling and coiling, occasionally slipping to one side or another to meet in apparently accidental kisses. His hands clenched and unclenched, twitching in time with his hips as nervous pulses raced through him, fired by the pleasure rising in his loins.

Jade and John met at the top of Dave’s cock and indulged in a kiss that was far from accidental: a sloppy, tongue-twisting open-mouthed affair. Their mingled saliva drooled down Dave’s dick in rivulets, soaking into the blond thicket of his pubes. They came together over his glans, enveloping it in their lips, conjoined tongues swirling with ever greater passion and pressure. Dave screwed his eyes shut, sure that under that dual front he was going to come at any moment. But his black-haired and black-hearted torturers gave him a reprieve. They pulled away, both giving his cockhead a kiss, a tiny benediction each.

John took the lead. He opened his mouth and sucked in Dave’s prick, just the head at first, then a couple more inches. Dave hit the back of John’s throat and felt him struggling not to gag. He was an inexperienced cocksucker, but to Dave’s appreciation he soldiered on, substituting his hand and clever sweeps of his tongue for the lack of depth. Dave had no complaints, and arched his back, subtly (he thought) rocking from side to side as he tried to stave off his resurgent orgasm. Between hand and mouth, tight fingers and tight lips, between stroking and licking, the need to let go and spurt out his seed consumed Dave. Somehow he held on. Somehow he fought off the urge, prolonging the hazy ecstasy and beautiful tension of his birthday treat as long as he possibly could.

Then John pulled back for a breath, and Jade jumped in, and Dave knew he was in real trouble. She swallowed him with all the grace of a competitive hot-dog eater, straight down her throat with the greatest of ease, though to his relief she didn’t subsequently chew. She sealed her lips around his root and hollowed her cheeks, somehow, incredibly, sucking with her windpipe stuffed full. Dave whined, writhing, his own mouth wide open and a hand flung across his forehead like a fever victim. His moans only intensified when Jade flung back her head with theatrical aplomb, tossing her hair before plunging down again.

Meanwhile, John nestled between Dave’s legs, his face right up against his crotch. Dave didn’t have a clue until John closed his mouth around one of his balls, gently tugging at it with lips and teeth. He did the same with the other, soaking Dave’s sack, then settled in to licking the soft crevasse that ran up its centre. The musky taste of Dave’s sweat was weirdly alluring, and he lapped hard, coating his tongue in it.

It was too much for Dave. He was tightening up, squeezed bodily by his own muscles. The thrumming in his cock demanded all his concentration to keep it under control, and the stronger it got, the less worthwhile control seemed. Better to let go on his own terms. And so he did, throwing himself headfirst into orgasm, thrusting his cock up into Jade’s receptive mouth. He’d intended a manly grunt, but the scream that escaped him as he came was high with desperation and relief.

Jade jerked back the instant she knew Dave was coming. She shut her lips tight around his cockhead and deftly caught his his white spray in her mouth, letting not one single drop escape. She pulled away from him and tapped John, who reared up to embrace him. They kissed, and she passed Dave’s bounty to him, letting him savour it.

Dave watched incredulously as they snowballed his cum back and forth, some of it escaping their mouths and, mixed with their spit, dribbling down their chins. Moments later, they each swallowed down half of his load and turned to him like performers expecting a standing ovation.

He stared at them. “You two are so fucking weird, you know that?”

Jade giggled, and John said: “We know. Happy birthday, Dave!”

The pair of them crawled up next to him and inflicted sticky kisses on his cheeks. In the spirit of gratitude, he didn’t complain.

“That got me all wet,” Jade said, off handedly, as though discussing something of mild interest.

“Yeah, and I’m really hard now,” said John.

Dave slowly shook his head. “Isn’t this supposed to be my present?”

“Share and share alike!” John said. He and Jade rolled over and enclosed the birthday boy on both sides. It was time for his party.


	9. Hard Work's Reward (Jade, Solo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long day of work in the greenhouse leaves Jade tired and ready to relax.

Jade comes into her room, glowing in the aftermath of hard work. Droplets of sweat glitter on her brow, and a few strands of her long black hair cling to her skin. A smudge of potting soil covers one cheek, but her hands are scrupulously clean. Reaching up to her shoulders, she slips the straps of her overalls off, letting them fall down to her feet to reveal her lithe, tanned body, naked save for a pair of white panties. They cling to and follow her contours a little more closely than they should if they were completely fresh.

She runs her hands down her body, her mouth briefly opening for a gasp as she fondles her petite breasts, fingers flicking over stiff, brown nipples, ones that have been intolerably stimulated by rough denim all afternoon. Reluctantly, she leaves her breasts be and travels further down, across her stomach, then just a little more until her fingers rest on the waistband of her panties.. She closes her eyes and smiles briefly as she anticipates the pleasures to come, then opens them, crawls onto her bed and sits with her back to the headboard and her legs spread wide. Her hand creeps back to her crotch and her fingers brush damp cotton. She squeaks a little, sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and chews on it as she begins to frig herself in earnest.

Two fingers slide smoothly up and down the length of her concealed slit. She blushes slightly as she pushes her labia apart and feels the warmth of her moisture spread out across her crotch, soaking through her panties with shocking rapidity. Very soon the fabric is completely soaked, exposing the lewd pinkness of her privates and making wet noises as her probing fingers move ever more frantically. She feels her wetness transferring to her fingertips. Her mouth opens in a moan and her lip pops free, a little reddened by tooth marks. She takes her hand away from her pussy and brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking on them, shutting her eyes as she tastes herself.

She shuffles forwards a little and lifts her legs up, her feet dangling in the air. Her free hand works her sodden underwear off her hips, wet cotton peeling away from wet flesh. Sticky little strands of pussy juice come away with it, stretching out until they snap. Pulling her panties down, she yanks them over her ankles, chucks them to one side and lets her feet flop back onto the mattress. A muffled giggle escapes her, and she takes her fingers from her mouth, sucking at them even as they slip out. She eagerly returns them to the damp heat of her pussy.

Groaning, she drives her index finger between her folds. Her forehead creases as though in intense concentration as she delves deep, tracing out searing lines of delight as her pussy opens to accommodate her digit. She shoves in two more fingers alongside their partner, her loins crying out for more stimulation, and arcs her hips up. Bucking and twisting, she squirms, adjusting to this new thickness, this new stretching of her walls and pressure on her nerves.

Her breath comes in staccato bursts; she opens her mouth for each outward breath then snaps it shut again as she breathes in through her nose. She frowns more deeply as she becomes increasingly frustrated, her pistoning fingers bringing pleasure but no progress towards her climax. A trickle of sweat rolls down her cheek and carves a trail through the smut of dirt stuck there.

With a growl of annoyance, she pulls her dripping fingers from her snatch and rolls onto her front, draping herself over to the edge of the bed. Reaching down, she blindly gropes around until her fingers close around something smooth and squishy. She draws it out, holds it up in front of her face and grins as she sees ten inches of gelatinous purple silicone. She scrambles to her knees, holding herself up with one hand, reaches behind herself with the other and practically rams the dildo home.

Now her frustrated groans become a sharp, delighted scream. Her mouth opens wide as though connected directly to her inner walls, stretched around the length of squishy, rubbery joy lodged between them. Her brows unknit as rapture floods her.

Her hips slam backwards as she makes the dildo flop and wobble its way in and out of her hole. Her howls shrill around the room. Her eyes stay screwed shut, save for when her toy twists within her in a particularly pleasing way, at which point her lids flick open as though in surprise that it feels so good.

The wonderful dong in her pussy soon has her panting for release. She needs no fantasies to push her on, just her own sense of joy in her body and the constant pounding between her legs. When her eyelids flicker open her eyes are glazed, hungry. Her pupils contract down to little pin-points, focussing on the ecstasy she can see ahead of her, shining and golden..

With one last hard thrust she tips herself over the edge, emitting a howl of pure joy as she collapses twitching onto the mattress. She clutches at her head as she orgasms, sweeping her hair back from her forehead. She grinds her hips into the bed, her clit rubbing hard against the sheets.

As quickly as it came, her climax passes. Her head flops onto a pillow. She looks up blearily for a moment, licking her lips while smiling a dazed smile, then her head is down on the pillow once again, where she gradually drifts off to sleep. The dildo remains lodged in her pussy, her surplus juices dribbling out around it.


	10. Tighten the Noose (Redglare/Terezi, breathplay, asphyxiation, death imagery content warning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Redglare bends her partner over her desk and wraps a belt around her neck. Don't try breathplay with your partner unless you both know exactly what you're doing. DO NOT try auto-erotic asphyxiation. You will die and leave an embarrassed ghost.

Redglare and her junior partner had won their case that night, and another piece of murderous piece of filth had taken the short drop into a long oblivion. They celebrated with bloodleech wine and stumbled back to their office, getting friskier with every wobbly step they took. By the time they burst through the door to their place Terezi had her hand down the back of Redglare’s trousers, and Redglare was busily unbuttoning Terezi’s blouse. Between kisses, they stripped each other down to their legal briefs, and sprawled across Redglare’s desk, scattering papers and stationery.

It wasn’t long before Redglare’s fingers found Terezi’s neck. She stroked it tenderly for a moment, and then squeezed, slowly, compressing tissue and sinew until Terezi’s breath wheezed down her throat. They stared at each other through their ruby-lensed glasses, Redglare running her tongue over her bottom lip, Terezi with slowly blurring vision. Redglare slackened her grip just a little, and Terezi nodded.

Redglare rolled off the desk and rummaged in a drawer, coming up with a worn leather belt. She grabbed Terezi by the haunches, flipped her over, bent her across the desk and looped the belt around her neck, threading the end through the buckle. She yanked it tight, and her partner choked, cut off in mid-breath. Terezi’s bulge emerged as Redglare pulled down her panties, then it was squashed against the polished woodwork of the desk, Redglare pushing up behind her, her own underwear around one ankle, her bulge writhing, ready to lodge itself somewhere hot and wet.

Terezi’s nook was just the ticket, already warm, already soaking, the thrill of being strangled getting her juices flowing thick and fast. Redglare thrust forward, her bulge stiffening the instant it contacted Terezi’s outer lips. Using the belt as a handle, Redglare hammered against her, groaning as her cock slithered into Terezi’s depths.

Terezi tried to gasp, but timed it wrong. When Redglare was pushing in the belt was like an iron band around her neck, closing up her airways entirely. When she pulled out she slackened it, just slightly, so that Terezi’s lungs, desperately straining for a breath that wouldn’t come were finally able to draw down a thin trickle of air, enough to keep her alive while Redglare tightened the belt again. Her whole body throbbed, her bloodstream burning, her heart thumping as it tried to keep her conscious. She loved the sense that her life was in the balance, that at any moment the scales could tip and plunge her into unconsciousness and possibly death. The idea that Redglare’s dick in her pussy could be the last pleasure she ever felt forced her to savour it, magnified and amplified it, focussing the blurry vestiges of her mind on the way that lovely length of flesh slurped and wriggled against her insides.

Redglare, for her part, revelled in the power of life and death she had over her partner. It was similar to the power she held as a legislacerator, but while innocence and guilt dictated her role as an executioner, here she felt that at any moment she chose she could pull on the belt one final time, keep it taut and cut Terezi’s mortal thread. And though she knew she’d end up suspended on one of her own gallows if she did, the thought of it excited her. Like Terezi, the psychology of their game enhanced the physical pleasure, and it didn’t hurt that Terezi clenched down on her cock when she cut off her air.

Terezi’s climax built and built, though there was a disconnect between her brain and body, demarcated by the leather around her neck. She needed the energy squirrelhousing around her lower regions to fill all of her before she could release it, but Redglare kept the belt taut. Her thrusts turned febrile, hips slapping against Terezi’s arse, juices dripping down her legs. Black tendrils crept into the edges of Terezi’s vision, purple spots flashed. Her limbs were tensed and knotted; she couldn’t move anymore, all her reserves were being expended on keeping her alive. Ecstasy raged in her like an inferno, consuming her, burning her alive, the blackness soldiered on and this was it, Redglare had lost control, she was fainting, dying…

Redglare roared and doubled over, shuddering, as she shoved her bulge in to the very hilt, filling Terezi full of thick genefluid. She slumped over Terezi’s back, the belt falling from her fingers. It slipped through its buckle and Terezi coughed, took an agonising breath and immediately let it all out in one raspy screech. Her blood surging with fresh oxygen, her bloodpump thrumming, she convulsed so wildly that Redglare for a moment thought she was having a fit. Pure pleasure obliterated her eyesight far more effectively than strangulation, filling it with redness as she screamed and thrashed.

Coughing and groaning, Terezi pushed Redglare off her back and herself up and off the desk. She found she was still very dizzy, whether from the orgasm or the choking she wasn’t sure, so she slumped in the desk’s chair until the world stopped spinning, feeling Redglare’s cum oozing out between her thighs. She went to rub her throat and found the belt still hanging there, just like a noose before hanging. Redglare sat on the desk and smiled at her, greatly satisfied with the final verdict.


End file.
